


12:47 AM

by deadfvrst



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blind Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 07:18:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11984922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadfvrst/pseuds/deadfvrst
Summary: "How's married life?", Ryan asks."It's alright.", and there isn't any tension, so they sit in silence for half an hour of described video.





	12:47 AM

It begins with the invitation, the one he can't read, the one he didn't want, but, he figures, it couldn't hurt more than fracturing his collarbone and losing his vision so he decides to go anyway.

It's not disgustingly hot out and Ryan doesn't bring a plus-one, he figures a fashionable cane and the pinstriped brown two piece is fine and when Zack notices him it's not awkward.

"Ryan, hey man, what's up?", there's an easy friendliness in that familiar boom that he still admires.

"Good, actually, just fine," and returning that warmth comes naturally, "You'd think today of all days you'd get a break."

Zack chuckles, if only for letting the moment remain simple, and this all happens as he directs Ryan to a table that likely has a placeholder with his name on it in fine lettering.

"Don't be afraid to holler," Zack says, and Ryan nods like he has any intention of being remotely comfortable with that possibility.

He didn't make it for the part where they actually walked the aisle, figured it'd be lost on him, but he sits now at an empty table in a field somewhere an hour after the thing probably started and he thinks, maybe the cake will be worth it, if anything. 

When Spencer sits down next to him and puts a tentative hand on his arm, he wonders vaguely if he's unofficially been included in the wedding party, and leans in for a hug.

"It's good to see you," it's hushed, but sincere and Ryan maybe melts a little because Spencer still smells the same even through a well tailored suit.

"You too, sorta", the humour isn't lost on either of them but it takes a second to register, Ryan can feel it in the hitch of breath, the 'oh, right,' but Spencer let's it go with an amused huff.

"It's been— what, five months?", the chatter around them sounds more lively now, and Ryan realizes that tables are likely filling up.

"Close to, yeah. How was the ceremony?", it's not a question he really cares to know the answer to but he does know that if he bothered to show up at all he might as well make the effort.

"It was beautiful. I mean, you should probably say that about any wedding but it was. You would've appreciated it, I think.", Spencer does that, the 'you would have's, he's not dead, he's blind, but he bites his tongue and nods along at the description of their surroundings, like it'll make a difference.

"Is she pretty?", he blurts out between something about roses and hair gel.

"Sarah?", Spencer's tone is neutral, "Stunning."

"And him?"

"He's doing his best."

"Okay," and they sit like that for another few minutes before Spencer stands to go, pat on the arm, kiss to the top of his head, a promise to hang out before their return flights. 

Ryan sinks further in his chair, is seated with strangers who've been made aware of his 'situation,' who offer to get him food, who abandon him after the meal is well over. He doesn't talk to Spencer again before he leaves, but there are still people around, he can hear the faint buzz of the lights between songs. And then another body is sat right next to him and neither of them says anything for an uncomfortably long time.

"I'm glad you came.", and oh, it's the man of the hour.

Ryan just holds out his arms expectantly, and the hug is tight, it lasts longer than it should and it means thanks, but Brendon wouldn't say that outright.

They laugh, pulling apart, Ryan says, "You're drunk," and it isn't accusatory, just a fact, just a breath of wine and something else he can't place.

"Yeah," and they sit with each other's company for a while until Brendon walks him over to a group of nobodies going back to the same hotel and they hug again.

"Come over sometime, meet the Misses," Brendon giggles dumbly, but the alcohol has warn off mostly and Ryan just says, "Okay."

They don't talk again for two months.

✖

 

There's a knock at the door and Ryan wonders sometimes whether it'd do to leave it unlocked and wide open. At least that way if it were some sod with a gun it would bring the stress of getting it off his own hands out of the way. He gives, anyway, and prods a path over.

"Hey, man, what's h—", it's Brendon, and he shuts the door, walking back to the couch.

It creaks hesitantly, softly, but he can tell the decor is probably being judged when a bag hits the floor in the foyer they're sitting next to each other after what would definitely be considered too long to other people. 

"Beer's in the fridge.", it's not a question but Brendon shrugs anyway and goes to retrieve a couple.

"How's married life?", Ryan asks.

"It's alright.", and there isn't any tension, so they sit in silence for half an hour of described video. 

Brendon shifts beside him, gets up, grunts something about being right back but it's a smoke break turned phone call and another half hour passes, or so it feels. When he comes back inside he strips down to his briefs and grabs the blanket from the armchair, settling back onto the couch.

"I never would've pegged you as the needy type," Ryan muses.

Brendon shrugs, "She called me. But I guess it's not something I really think about, it's just what we do when I'm gone."

"Why are you here?", it's not like he's complaining, but he never got any notice.

"I needed a break from thinking," like that answers anything.

Ryan wakes up the next morning with a stiff neck and arms wrapped around his waist. They don't talk about it, but Brendon still makes him tea the way he's always liked it, and they eat breakfast in relative silence. Save for the hum of the fridge and the unspoken excuses strung between them. 

Regret is a surefire way to burn trusted foundations down, because what comes with it is self doubt and deprecation and well, that just gets on everyone else's nerves. They never realize the suffering going on until they're just as hurt and by then all damages are irreparable, at least, that's how most of 2010 felt for Ryan.

After "The Incident", everything was starkly forgotten in the name of support and good appearances, but mostly concern. Since then, the death of a promising new career, any stale and dying friendships have been salvaged as much as possible. 

Ryan Ross hasn't touched a guitar since April of 2011, in fact, he probably couldn't even point to the direction of his music room. Not because he's blind, but because he's genuinely forgotten where it is in his own home. It's all one level, fairly easy to navigate, regarding a myriad of visual abilities, and he hasn't really left the place for more than a few days in about three years.

The bruise in his couch from his ass would suggest he's either completely withered away or blown up, but he's still plain old Ryan, except now people handle him like he's some fragile, mentally unstable doll ready to crack. Even Spencer is still tentative around him, as if not less than a year before it all happened had they not been as handsy or aggressive as they felt was necessary. Now, it was delicate touches for pasty skin of brittle, bitter, cripple. 

Jon never bothered with the special treatment, still calls him up sometimes to make fun of how pathetic he's become, good-natured and friendly, of course. 

Brendon aimed for that same nonchalance, but didn't quite make it until about two years ago. 

Ryan's made other friends since the accident, is still in touch with some of the old 'Veins crew, but he doesn't really get out enough to keep in touch, to care.

He sits now, like he would any other day, in the dark, on his couch, with a movie on, but this time there's no audio based accommodation for him and Brendon's head is in his lap. Like it couldn't get any weirder, Ryan is pretty sure that Brendon has been using the bathroom with the door open, but he can't always tell, and doesn't think he should ask.

If, at some point, he tangles his hand through Brendon's hair, no one mentions it.

"What time is it?", Ryan whispers.

And Brendon does that thing where he inhales dramatically to wake himself up, but it's obvious it never takes the intended effect, "Hm?", he shifts, probably to look at his wrist watch or check on the TV, "It's like, 11:30."

"You can have the guest room tonight, if you want."

"Tired?", and Brendon shifts, like he's about to sit up, but moves just enough to settle on his back, engaged in the conversation.

"No, I just—", and Ryan doesn't just, he doesn't know anything suddenly.

Brendon lets him trail off, settles back in to face the TV and they wake up again stiff but not tense.

✖

"We should go somewhere today," Ryan is pretty certain Brendon hasn't worn pants since he got there, needless to say the suggestion is coming from left field.

"It's been four days of SciFi marathons and regret, we are not going anywhere until you shower.", and he means that but he can tell from the way Brendon slurps his coffee that it wasn't threatening enough. So, he hurls a hash brown across the table and between the yelp and flurry of dishes, bounding down the hall to the right, and the water running? Ryan considers it a victory.

They're dressed and presentable by noon, which is a feat of it's own as far as they're concerned. Brendon has a rental and they go out for lunch at the first place with an open sign.

"Hocus Pocus or Matilda?", Brendon asks.

"Not even remotely comparable," because it's true.

"Cinderella or Snow White?"

"Listen, I don't think you understand the basic merits of classi—"

"What can I get for you today, gentlemen?", and he's definitely not disappointed about being interrupted, he wasn't sure he even had a point.

Lunch happens, Ryan gives it that much credit; it happens.

And that's fine, he thinks, because he falls asleep in his own bed that night, but he's not better off.

✖

 

They don't talk, Brendon decides this, because Ryan would never flat out ignore a guest but he'd ignore Brendon any day, especially when asked.

They don't talk and it's not because there's nothing to say, there's too much to say but that would be hard so it's better off untouched.

But that's the thing, they do touch. 

A lot, considering, and Ryan is definitely considering.

They're laying in Ryan's king sized bed, it's low to the ground. They're laying there, not talking, but Brendon might have his hand wrapped around Ryan's wrist, and Ryan might be okay with that, until he's not.

"I still love you," he says.

"I know."


End file.
